by Caro Fraser
‘Leo Davies … I know that name,’ said Lou, frowning. ‘Isn’t he the chap who’s doing the big fraud case at the moment?’
‘Very possibly,’ said Sarah. ‘I don’t pay too much attention to the law unless I really have to.’
‘There was a piece about him in the Standard last night. And a picture. Very attractive, even for forty-something.’ She gazed curiously at Sarah. ‘So, what’s the story there?’
‘Darling, it might not be entirely discreet of me to tell you, not if he’s becoming such a prominent figure.’
‘Oh, come on! Don’t be so tantalising. Tell me. You know I’m—’
‘Yes, the very soul of discretion.’ Sarah laughed and put down her hairbrush. She leant her chin on her hands. ‘We go back a few years, actually. I met him through friends at a party. I’d just come down from Oxford and was stuck for something to do. And somewhere to live. Daddy wasn’t quite as generous in those days, and I didn’t really fancy spending all summer living with my parents. So, when Leo mentioned that he had a job going, I volunteered.’
‘A job? What kind of job?’ asked Lou, intrigued.
Sarah arched her eyebrows. ‘Oh - he had a house in Oxfordshire, and he said he needed a housekeeper. You know, someone to look after the place, cook when he came down at weekends with his friends. Leo had lots of friends …’ There was a silence. Sarah traced the rim of her coffee cup with one finger. ‘And there was one special friend. A young man, staying in the house.’
‘What? A lover, d’you mean?’
‘Mmm. Sort of. Though that implies some sort of sentimental attachment, and there certainly wasn’t any of that. A very dirty little boy indeed was James. Quite pretty, too, before he became a junkie. Anyway, Leo had installed him there and I don’t think he entirely trusted him. So he put me in charge.’
‘So … he paid you to look after the house and keep an eye on his boyfriend?’
Sarah smiled. ‘There were other duties of a rather more personal nature, of course, but I regarded those more as pleasure than business.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Certain things I would happily have done free - for Leo.’
‘I think’, Lou said slowly, ‘that I get the picture.’
‘It was a wonderful summer,’ said Sarah with a sigh. ‘But all good things come to an end. Leo realised if anyone found out about it that it wouldn’t do his image much good - he was applying for silk at that time - and we parted amicably. So you see, I think of most of the people in chambers as friends already.’
Lou got up and took her mug to the sink. ‘Frankly, I think I’d prefer to be starting somewhere where nobody knew anything about me. Especially not my lurid past. Too much baggage, if you ask me.’
Sarah stretched luxuriantly, letting the loose sleeves of her robe slip down her bare arms. ‘That depends on whether you’re prepared to turn it all to your own advantage, darling. Now, I must go and have my shower, so that I’m ready in time for your taxi.’
While Sarah was making her leisurely way into chambers for her first day as a pupil, work was already well under way at 5 Caper Court.
As Leo came into the clerks’ room to pick up his mail before going over to court, David Liphook accosted him. ‘Leo, you know that award that was handed down last month against those Greek scrap metal merchants?’
‘That Vourlides lot? I know them well.’
‘Well, Bill Tate has just rung to say that they’re contesting the arbitrators’ award on the grounds that the arbitrators misconducted themselves and that Ken Lightman was guilty of bias. Can you believe it?’
Leo grinned. ‘That bunch will try anything. They once tried to have me removed from a case on the grounds that I was in the pay of the Turkish government.’ He glanced at the two sizeable piles of documents and books ranged next to David. ‘Where are you off to with that lot?’
‘I’ve got an arbitration. Which is why I suggested to my new pupil that today might be a good day to start her pupillage. Thought it would be interesting for her to see something through from scratch. And useful to me. Not,’ he added, glancing at his watch, ‘that it’s going to be particularly useful unless she shows up in the next ten minutes. I’m going to be hauling this lot in and out of taxis myself, at this rate.’
‘Ah, yes - your new pupil. Sir Vivian Colman’s daughter, if I’m not much mistaken?’
‘That’s right. Do you know her?’
Leo hesitated. ‘I’ve met her a few times. I think you’ll find most people have.’ He could hardly tell David just exactly how well he knew Sarah, or just how much havoc her exasperating behaviour had wrought in his life. ‘Yes, Felicity?’ Leo glanced over at Felicity, the junior clerk, who was waggling her hand to attract his attention.
‘Sorry to interrupt, Mr Davies. It’s Fred Fenton for you. Says he needs a quick word.’
‘All right. Put him through to the waiting room. I’ll take it there.’
Felicity came over to where David stood drumming his fingers. ‘You look like a man who’s been stood up, Mr Liphook,’ said Felicity, leaning her elbows on the counter and making even more of her already ample cleavage. She was a pretty, bubbly type, an East Ender with a sharp wit who had been a clerk for only a year. Under Henry’s tutelage, she was developing into a thorough professional, with a naturally maternal care for the interests of the barristers in chambers.
‘I don’t much care for being kept waiting around by my pupil, to be honest. I’d heard that having one can be more trouble than it’s worth. Still, at the time, taking her on seemed like a good idea.’
‘What’s she like, then?’ asked Felicity. ‘Be nice to have a few more women around here.’
David shrugged. ‘Very pleasant.’
‘Nice looking?’
‘Oh, definitely.’
Felicity sighed. ‘I thought she might be.’ She nodded towards the window. ‘There’s your cab. What do you want me to do with this Miss Colman when she gets here? Send her on?’
‘No. Yes.’ David glanced at his watch again. ‘Yes. She should be able to find MFB under her own steam - just give her the address. It’s a bloody nuisance. I was relying on someone to help with all this.’ David began to pick up bundles and stuff them under one arm.
‘Ta-ta,’ said Felicity.
Leo reappeared from the waiting room just as Cameron Renshaw lumbered downstairs.
‘Leo, can you do something for me?’ asked Cameron.
‘Depends what it is,’ said Leo. ‘I’m due in court in ten minutes.’
‘Just a minute of your time. The thing is, I’ve got those people from the Lincoln’s Inn Estates Committee coming over late today about the new chambers we’ve been looking at. The ones in New Square.’
‘Oh. Yes,’ said Leo flatly. He wasn’t exactly keen on this idea of moving out of Caper Court to larger premises.
‘Well, I don’t want to put them off, but I need to see my doctor, and it turns out that the only time he can fit me in is around half four this afternoon. After that he’s off to some golfing holiday in Portugal and won’t be back for three weeks.’ Cameron dropped his voice. ‘Between you and me, I don’t think I can wait three weeks. I’ve been having these stomach pains all summer. I’m frankly not feeling quite the thing. I haven’t been able to keep anything down for two days, and I really think I have to do something about it.’
‘God, I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Leo. Come to think of it, he did think old Cameron had been looking a bit yellow round the gills the past few days. And was it his imagination, or hadn’t he lost a bit of weight? With a fellow of Cameron’s size, it was hard to tell, but he certainly didn’t seem his old Falstaffian self.
‘So I wondered if you’d mind seeing these people for me.’
‘Yes, of course I will. What time are they coming?’
‘Around five.’
‘Fine. I’ll be back well before then. Anyway, I’d better dash.’
Leo hurried out of the door and collided with Sarah as she was coming up the st
eps.
‘Morning, Leo,’ said Sarah. ‘Shouldn’t run at your age, you know. Not dignified.’
Leo sighed. Exasperating as he found her, he couldn’t help thinking how pretty and professional she looked in her immaculately cut black suit and white, silk blouse, her blonde hair neatly tied back. The very picture of a demure young barrister. If only the world knew the true Sarah. ‘Thank you for that piece of advice. Now let me give you one. It’s not a good idea to keep your pupilmaster hanging about on your very first day. It creates a bad impression. And in your case, impression is everything. Don’t get the idea that dear David is a soft touch. He may seem that way, but when it comes to business, he’s all business. Goodbye.’
‘See you later.’ Sarah turned, smiling, as Leo hurried down the steps. ‘Isn’t it nice that we’re going to be seeing so much of one another from now on?’
‘Bliss,’ murmured Leo as he strode up Middle Temple Lane.
Felicity looked up from her desk as Sarah came into the reception area. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
‘I’m Sarah Colman. Mr Liphook’s pupil. I’m starting today.’
‘Oh, yes! Hello - I’m Felicity. I’m the junior clerk.’ They shook hands, appraising one another. ‘I’m afraid Mr Liphook’s left. He’s got an arbitration today. I think he was expecting you a bit earlier.’
Sarah did her best to look anxious and contrite. ‘I know. I feel dreadful about being so late. The trains were all over the place.’
‘Oh, well, not to worry. I’m sure you couldn’t help it.’ Sarah’s expression flickered slightly at this. She didn’t much like the mumsy, patronising tone. Nor the implied criticism. A junior clerk was only a jumped-up office girl, after all. One with appalling taste in clothes at that. Low-cut jumpers and short skirts were pretty vulgar, even if you did have the figure for them. Still, since she was playing the part of the anxious-to-please pupil, she’d better keep up the front.
‘No. It would happen on my first day, of all days, though.’
‘Well, he’s only just left. If you set off now, you’ll probably get there before they start. It’s at the arbitration centre at More Fisher Brown, near Spitalfields. You can get a bus on Fleet Street to take you up to Liverpool Street. I’ll write down the address.’ She scribbled it down.
‘Thanks,’ said Sarah, taking the piece of paper from Felicity. ‘I only hope I’m not too late.’
She hurried out into the warm September sunshine, then dropped her pace to a saunter once she was out of Caper Court. A boring old arbitration was the last thing she felt like doing. She’d have preferred to sit and drink coffee in David’s room and read a newspaper, or skive off to Middle Temple Common Room. Still, one had to show willing. As for a bus, sod that. She’d take a taxi.
Sarah arrived at the arbitration with minutes to spare and managed to fake a breathless apology to David.
‘Don’t worry,’ said David, who had promised himself earlier in the taxi that he would take a stern, frosty line with her, but now found himself unable to in the face of her exceptional prettiness and charm. She had certainly caught the attention, too, of the other men seated round the large oval table. Sarah realised she was the only woman present, and at this her confidence lifted. ‘Here,’ said David in an undertone, passing her a pristine counsel’s notebook. ‘Just take notes and try to keep up with what’s going on. I was going to explain the case to you beforehand, but I’m afraid we haven’t got time.’
At that moment the arbitrator glanced across at David. ‘I think we’re all ready now, Mr Liphook.’
‘Thank you.’ David stood up. ‘Good morning. In this case I appear for the plaintiffs, and my learned friend, Mr Gilmore, for the defendants. The matters in dispute arise from the issue in Hamburg of two bills of lading dated 18 April and 23 June 1997 for the carriage of containers of sugar from Hamburg and Bremerhaven to Dubai and Mina Qaboos …’
Sarah started diligently to note down the main points as David spoke, then after fifteen minutes she began to wonder why she was bothering. This was his case, after all, so he must know what was going on. Why should she go to the trouble of noting down what he was saying? There might be some point if the other side’s barrister were talking, but this was just a waste of time. She put down her pen and yawned, then glanced idly at each man seated round the table, trying to assess if there was anything particularly attractive about any of them. Deciding there was not, she picked up her pen again and doodled covertly until tea was brought in. She ate four digestive biscuits and drank her tea, then sat, restless and bored, until lunch time.
‘Well, are you managing to follow what’s going on?’ asked David, when they broke for lunch.
Sarah gave a thin smile. ‘Sort of. How long do you think it will last?’
‘We should be finished by the end of the day.’ He riffled quickly through his papers. ‘Look, I wonder if you could do something over lunch for me. Beddoes and I - that’s our solicitor, by the way, Paul Beddoes.’ David glanced round. ‘Oh, he’s talking at the moment. I’ll introduce you later. Anyway, we have to have a meeting over lunch with the client. We need to get these documents copied. They’re communications between the master and the shore that didn’t reach us till this morning, so none of the arbitrators has copies. I’ll need - let me see … six copies. Can you manage that?’
‘Sure,’ said Sarah. David handed her the documents. ‘Where can I get it done?’
‘Ask down at reception. There’ll be a photocopier somewhere.’ David glanced at his watch. ‘See you back here at two.’
Sarah left the arbitration room and eventually found a photocopier in the lobby. She stood drumming her fingernails as the machine ate and fed, ate and fed the slim stack of papers.
‘Sarah - hello! What are you doing here?’
Sarah turned. A tall, chubby man with wavy brown hair and a suit in the very broadest chalk-stripe stood grinning at her.
‘Oh, hello, Teddy,’ said Sarah. ‘I’m having fun - what d’you think?’ The photocopier chugged out the last sheaves of paper and Sarah stacked them all neatly together. ‘Actually, I’m on the first day of my pupillage and already I’m being treated like slave labour.’ Teddy was a solicitor, someone she had run into on regular occasions on her social circuit.
‘Come and have lunch with me, then. I’ve just put in three hours of honest graft, and could do with something.’
‘All right,’ said Sarah! ‘Anything’s better than hanging around here.’ She picked up the bundles of documents and they left.
‘Oh, Teddy, not another,’ said Sarah, as Teddy returned from the bar with two large glasses of white wine. Before them lay the remnants of a plate of avocado and-bacon sandwiches. The wine bar was thronged with City lunchers. ‘In fact, I shouldn’t have had that first one. I’ll fall asleep this afternoon. Honestly, arbitrations are so boring. At least, this one is.’ She took a quick sip of the second glass and glanced at Teddy’s watch. ‘Is that the time? I’ll have to go. I’m meant to be back at two and it’s five to already. Listen, it’s been lovely. I’ll buy you lunch in return some time. You finish my wine. Bye.’ Sarah, slightly pink from the wine, kissed Teddy quickly on both cheeks and left.
With a sigh, Teddy sat down and scoffed the remaining sandwiches, finished his wine and flipped through his copy of The Times. It was only when he got up to go that he noticed the neat stack of documents, lying where Sarah had left them.
The arbitration was reconvening just as Sarah got back. She slipped breathlessly into her seat and quickly retied her hair, which had come loose. The atmosphere, in contrast to the conviviality of the wine bar, was sombre and businesslike, the only sounds the rustle of paper and the mild hum of serious, muted conversation as everyone prepared to resume.
David came into the room and gave her a quick smile. ‘Did you manage to get those documents done?’ he asked, as he sat down next to her.
Recollection hit her like a shock. ‘Oh, shit,’ she said, and put her hand to her mouth. The
word rang in the air with unexpected clarity. Heads lifted, conversation ceased. David stared at her.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she muttered and fled from the room. There was a surprised silence and the eyes of all the men in the room turned to David.
‘Are we ready to recommence, Mr Liphook?’ asked the arbitrator.
Pink with embarrassment, David hesitated, half rose to his feet. ‘Gentlemen, I had intended to introduce some further correspondence between the master and the Bremerhaven agents, which came to us only this morning. However—’ David rustled among his notes ‘—may I in the meantime move to another point, and that is the questions of the contractual status of the bills of lading at German law …’
Sarah sped back to the wine bar. It was emptying now, the tables littered with discarded glasses and empty sandwich plates, a noisy group of brokers still laughing and smoking by the bar. She cursed herself. She had thought this pupillage was going to be a breeze, that she was going to manage David beautifully and not put a foot wrong, and still get away without doing too much hard work, and already it was going haywire. Well, it was her own fault. Praying inwardly, she scanned the floor by the table where she and Teddy had been sitting. Nothing. Her heart sank. But who would want to walk off with some boring shipping documents? She hurried to the bar, where the barman was uncorking yet another bottle for the brokers.
‘Excuse me, I was in here ten or fifteen minutes ago and I left some papers on the floor by the table just over there, by the window—’
Without changing expression, the barman bent slightly and pulled out from beneath the counter Sarah’s bundle of documents. ‘Young man said you’d left them, and that you might be back for them. Lucky, ain’t you?’
‘God, yes,’ breathed Sarah. ‘Thank you.’
Clutching the documents, she sped back to the arbitration centre. In the lobby, she stabbed at the lift buttons and leant against the wall, trying to recover her breath. She was still panting when she reached the doors of the arbitration room. She could hear David’s voice droning away, so she gave herself a couple of minutes to compose herself. Then she went in as unobtrusively as possible and slid into her seat, laying the bundle of photocopied documents on the table before her.